


Something That Didn't Happen

by bigblueboxat221b, OneBlueUmbrella (bigblueboxat221b)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Developing Relationship, Episode: s03e11 Stop Saying Lice!, First Kiss, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27133183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/bigblueboxat221b, https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigblueboxat221b/pseuds/OneBlueUmbrella
Summary: AU: Stop Saying Lice (3.11)In which there are still lice at the hotel, meaning David needs somewhere to stay.and,In which Stevie pushes David to accept Patrick's offer instead, and Ray makes himself scarce.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 30
Kudos: 137





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Poutini for the conversation, encouragement and beta on this story; thanks to Saratonin for reading and endless cheerleading, as always.
> 
> AU - Stop Saying Lice (3.11).  
> Diverges in the scene where Stevie and Patrick first meet and are talking in the store about the lice issue at the motel. Patrick has offered for David to crash at his place, but then...

“Stevie already offered this morning,” David said. Good God, staying at Patrick’s place was uncomfortable in a way he wasn’t really ready to address right now. And didn’t he live with Ray?

“No I didn’t,” Stevie said. She managed to keep a straight enough face to fool Patrick, but David could read the mischief in her eyes. “That’s very kind of you, Patrick.” She turned to David. “That’s very kind of Patrick, wouldn’t you say David?”

“It _is_ ,” David replied, his eyes wide as he faced Stevie. “Of course, my business partner wouldn’t have to be so kind if my actual friend offered.”

“Well aren’t you lucky he did,” Stevie retorted, “or you’d be helping me change every bed in the motel.”

“Unlikely,” David said, with an insincere smile. He turned back to Patrick. Folded arms and an amused expression showed he was definitely following their exchange. “Really, you don’t have to. I’m sure I can-”

“Help Stevie with all the beds?” Patrick finished for him. He pointed to David’s head. “You’d better make sure your shower cap stays on nice and tight.”

David pressed his lips together in frustration. It also served to hide the smile that always threatened when Patrick gave a good comeback. Darn him and his mild mannered appearance. David forgot to be on guard when Patrick surprised him like that. His gentle smile would be deadly if Patrick ever tried to weaponise it.

Not that he’d really have to try too hard.

Carefully, David glanced at Stevie. Her arms were crossed and her expression was more overt but it was certainly similar enough to Patrick’s.

_Dammit. They’re both smirking at me._

David turned reluctantly back to Patrick, who raised his eyebrows but didn’t speak. Amusement sparkled and David could tell everyone in the room already knew what he was going to say.

“Thank you, Patrick, for your kind offer,” David said stiffly. He wrapped one arm around his middle, suddenly awkward in his body. “As long as you’re sure-”

“I’m sure, David,” Patrick interrupted again. He smiled. “I hate to think how late you’d be if you were up all night worrying about…”

“Stop saying lice,” David interrupted, closing his eyes and raising his hands. “Urgh.”

“I promise you a louse-free experience,” Patrick told him.

David sighed, but opened his eyes to meet Patrick’s gaze. It was soft, and there weren’t enough words to describe everything happening inside David as he studied Patrick’s expression. Fond might have been the closest word he could find, but that couldn’t be right, could it?

“Well, I’ll go,” Stevie said pointedly, breaking whatever atmosphere was beginning to coalesce around Patrick and David.

“Yeah, fine, okay, bye,” David snapped impatiently, turning away to adjust the already perfect line of body milk to his right. Human emotion was not really his area, and he had no idea why he was so uncomfortable right now. It had something to do with the knowing look on Stevie’s face before she’d left, and the expression on Patrick’s face – something he’d noticed more and more as they worked together to get the store ready.

“Well I’m going to go too,” David said. “I should pack, and avoid my family.”

“No problem,” Patrick replied. “I’ll text you when I’ve got that inventory done and we can meet at my place.”

“Sure,” David replied.

He flashed a smile at Patrick but it vanished as soon as he’d rounded the corner of the building and stopped. He really needed to figure out what was going on in his brain. Was this friendship? David paced as he thought, biting the inside of his cheek. He was not used to someone being so considerate of him. Surely people weren’t drawn to their friends the way he was drawn to Patrick? There was some physical attraction there, that was something he was familiar with, but it wasn’t like he wanted to fuck the guy and leave. Or fuck the guy and be okay when _he_ left. Neither of those possibilities sounded like they were likely, not with the two of them being so tied up in Rose Apothecary. And he was so sure Patrick was straight. They hadn’t really spoken about their pasts, but he’d heard Patrick mention an ex-girlfriend, and maybe he was just the type of person who was kind to people. It certainly seemed that way.

Definitely. David was just reading way too much into this very straight man’s niceness. And even if he felt some weird pull towards Patrick, the last thing he would want to do was make him uncomfortable enough to leave the business. Straight men did not deal well with being hit on by another man. God knew David had made that mistake before, and nobody wanted a repeat of Cabo 2004. Right. So he wouldn’t need to talk to Stevie about this. She was a good friend but talking about real stuff was weird. He was fine.

“I’m fine,” he muttered to himself, glancing around to make sure nobody could hear him. Of course they couldn’t, it was like eleven o’clock in the morning, nobody was around.

He’d left work far earlier than he needed to. Frustratingly, going back to the hotel wasn’t really an option, so David found himself sitting in the Café, hoping nobody would want to come and chat. He was still quite in his head about this whole thing, talking himself into this being a good idea while increasingly thinking it might be a terrible idea. Twyla was her usual chirpy self, but David pretended to be talking to a vendor so she’d go. He felt a little guilty, but didn’t have the patience to talk while he was trying to get his head right.

What was Patrick _doing_? That question had not been answered by his little stress session outside the store. David was so used to people having some kind of motive that even his assurances of Patrick’s integrity did not quell the twisting of his gut. As he stirred his coffee, David reminded himself Patrick didn’t seem like a manipulative person. Living in Schitt’s Creek was slowly changing David’s automatic assumptions about people, and he was growing less suspicious with each passing day. Were his own emotions making this harder to work out? Having Patrick invested in the business complicated things. In a previous life David would have just asked Patrick, or kissed him or something, but there was more at stake this time.

Was Patrick aware of that too? Was he trying to grow their friendship? They hadn’t spent almost any time together outside of work. That seemed in contrast to his original proposal. He’d been quite firm when David wondered if he was offering to work for free. Firm, but not rude. It had all been very…professional. Yet he’d pushed even that boundary assuring David he’d get the local grants.

Was it because he knew they’d only get to work together if he succeeded?

David murmured thanks as his omelette arrived, not looking up. He picked up one of the fries, idly eating it while his brain continued to work on this idea. It felt important, and he needed to work it out before he saw Patrick again. Was it because Patrick needed the work? David could feel the frown pulling at his face as he tried to separate the two ideas. Was Patrick interested in being part of the business for the business or for David? He couldn’t say for sure, so David considered how he felt about both options. The tentative press into this area of his mind was unfamiliar, and he was hit with an unexpectedly solid reaction.

_Wow._

David reached for another fry, absently chewing on the soggy length as he processed. He hadn’t really allowed himself the time to think about Patrick like this and it was intense. Twyla came over and he ordered another coffee, brain still working overtime. By the time Twyla returned he was able to flash her a smile. Finally, he was able to accept something he’d been skirting around.

_I want it to be because he wanted to work with me._

It was rare David would even get to this point in his thought process. His self-awareness wasn’t great and historically he was more about ignoring or suppressing emotion. It was a long habit borne of self-preservation, but this town was affecting him. This feeling of working out what it was swirling in his head was new and incredibly uncomfortable. Yet he was here and doing it. Tentatively, he looked at himself through a different lens.

_If I’m interested in Patrick, does that make sense?_

Holding onto this question, David worked through his memories of Patrick. About the way Patrick looked at him, and the pull he felt to find Patrick’s eyes, to see his reaction to a comment or situation. About the awareness he felt when he was near Patrick, and the catalogue he’d subconsciously built of expressions Patrick threw his way in different moments. If that wasn’t how people saw their friends, was he actually interested in more than friendship? Like, an actual relationship with Patrick? Each memory elicited a response from him and he knew he chased them, even as part of his brain wanted to run away.

_Good God. I may be into my business partner._

David took a long draw from his coffee. Twyla really was getting better at making his coffee correctly. That aside, even if he accepted this uncertain realisation, it was entirely independent of Patrick’s intent. He was a nice person, and the kind of help he’d offered David might have been offered to anyone. Especially as he was being paid, David reminded himself. He had a vested interest in the business succeeding. That rationale carried David only so far, because the same couldn’t be said for what felt like the more private memories.

The quiet smiles.

The hand on his arm, the small of his back, the brush of fingers.

The way he listened to David and thought about important questions, but could fire back snark when he needed to.

And to David’s surprise, he didn’t indulge the kind of flustered behaviour David knew appeared when he was insecure. Patrick could see past it and his calm eyes reassured David while his words allowed David his pride – never openly acknowledging anything, replying in David’s own language. Snark and sarcasm, though without the edge David often expected.

But what did he mean by offering his place for the night?

Was this part of the nice person, or was it something more closely aligned to the other stuff? The stuff David was only starting to admit to himself he wanted. If that was what Patrick wanted too…he couldn’t think that far ahead. Anything they might have would be miles and miles removed from David’s previous experiences, and that in itself was frightening. The honesty he and Patrick shared was already more than anything David had experienced. With a grimace, David placed his coffee down. His brain was going in circles and he wasn’t getting anywhere.

_I am going to drive myself insane if I keep thinking about this._

“You done, hon?” Twyla asked.

David blinked. He’d barely touched his coffee, and his omelette was cold. “Yeah,” he said. “Not hungry.”

“Sure,” Twyla said, taking his plate. She shot him a concerned look but didn’t say anything else.

David glanced at his phone. Patrick had headed home – he had other work to catch up on after spending so much time at the store lately – and he’d suggested they meet at his place around six o’clock. Ray would be around, of course, and David couldn’t decide if he was relieved to have an extra person in the mix or not.

If David walked slowly home, packed carefully and walked equally slowly over to Ray’s house, it would be close enough to six by the time he arrived. With nothing else to do, David followed that plan. He spent the walk back to the motel telling himself to stop analysing things. Patrick was a nice person offering him respite from the horror of lice. David would treat him as such, and they could get back to being business partners tomorrow.

Simple.


	2. Chapter 2

Clutching and re-clutching his overnight bag, David stared at the front door. He should knock; if anyone was watching, his nerves would surely be obvious after standing here for so long already. With a deep breath, David reminded himself that any night away from his sister and her potential for infecting him with the lice was a good one, and knocked on the door.

“David,” Ray greeted him with the same wide smile he always used. “Come in, come in.”

“Thank you,” David murmured, feeling more awkward by the second. “Uh, Patrick said I could stay here tonight.”

“Of course, of course,” Ray told him, leading the way through his office-cum-studio and into the living room at the back of the house. “I’ll be off soon, and you’ll have the whole place to yourself.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” David started, but Ray cut him off.

“I have plans already, a friend in Elmdale has an idea for a new business and I want to get in on the ground floor.” Ray grinned again. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He patted David’s bicep. “Late morning, of course. There’s pancake mix in the cupboard if you’d like a fancier breakfast!”

David wasn’t sure how to address any of what Ray just said – did he really look like someone who liked to cook? – so he just tried for a smile. “How kind.”

“Are you alright?” Ray asked, alarmed.

“Fine,” David muttered, looking around. Clearly his smile hadn’t quite come off the way he wanted, but Ray seemed satisfied with his reply.

“Okay then,” Ray said, his smile returning in full force just as Patrick walked in. He and David locked eyes immediately and David couldn’t help seeing Patrick’s smile widen.

“Well, here comes Patrick!” Ray turned to beam at Patrick. “I’ll see you two tomorrow, then.”

“See you, Ray,” Patrick said, his eyes moving from David for the briefest moment possible. When Ray bustled out of the room, he and David looked at each other in silence until the front door closed and quiet settled around them.

“So, um, Ray’s going out,” Patrick said.

“Yeah, I can see that,” David replied. Was he nervous? “So, I’ll just put my bag here for now.”

“Sure,” Patrick said easily. He flashed David another smile. “I see you’ve taken the bold step of removing your shower cap.”

“Yes,” David replied. He didn’t want to tell Patrick he’d wanted to take a shower before coming over here; taking off the shower cap at Patrick’s place without the chance to properly deal with his hair was not an option. That was not about Patrick, he told himself; it was a basic level of personal grooming to attend to one’s hair.

“Well I’m glad to see you trust me enough to let your hair out,” Patrick said with a grin.

David nodded, still unsure what to say. He was about to burst out with something about the décor when Patrick spoke. “Can I offer you a drink?” he asked.

He’d barely finished the question before David was nodding vigorously. “Yes, yes a drink would be,” he didn’t finish that sentence, instead following Patrick through to the kitchen. “Thank you,” he added, taking the glass of wine Patrick offered.

“Red wine,” David remarked. “A bold choice midweek.” He hoped his expression was neutral. Wine still reminded him of the awkward analogy he and Stevie shared that one time.

“Yeah, I figured I should try everything we’re going to stock at the store.” Patrick looked at the bottle. “I’m not usually a red wine drinker, but this is growing on me.”

“Ah,” David managed. He flashed Patrick a smile, hoping he covered any smirkiness with a sip of wine. It wasn’t fair to add meaning to Patrick’s words, but he still felt butterflies at the implication.

_This is growing on me._

David shook his head to clear it. Patrick was talking about the wine, and only the wine.

“You okay?” Patrick asked. He raised his own glass, eyes on David.

“Yeah,” David said. He looked around the kitchen, wondering what he and Patrick were going to talk about. How had he not realised that literally every conversation they’d ever had was about the store? Or in the store? Or at least started at one of those places before it wandered. And now they didn’t have that so he was seriously considering asking Patrick about the wallpaper.

_Oh God. This was a terrible idea._

“Well, this is awkward,” Patrick said, his face suffusing with pink. He huffed a laugh. “Sorry, that’s not-”

“No, I know,” David said. Thank God Patrick had broached the subject. “I mean, we’re always talking about the store, right?” he waved one hand around. “And now we’re here, and there’s no…no inventory, or decisions about where any of the products are going to go, or aesthetic decisions to make.”

“I’m sure you have opinions about the kitchen,” Patrick said, looking around.

“Where do I even start,” David replied, waving one hand. “I mean, the wallpaper?”

“I know,” Patrick said. He wrinkled his nose. “Ray really has a thing for floral.”

“Please don’t tell me that extends to the rest of the house,” David said, his moderate horror sending a shiver down his spine. He spied Patrick’s smirk and added, “I don’t even know how you live here.”

“Neither do I,” Patrick agreed, and when he met David’s eye, they both grinned. Patrick raised his glass in salute and they both drank again, David feeling the atmosphere relax. This was a conversation in the making, and it had nothing to do with work. They could do this. Probably. The wine would help, at least.

“So how did you end up living here?” David asked. He leaned against the counter, not willing to risk the floral covered chairs tucked under the table.

Patrick topped off both their glasses before opening the back door. “Ironically there are fewer flowers out here in the garden,” he said.

They settled on the outdoor chairs and David had to admit this was nicer. The evening was fading fast, but it was warm enough to be comfortable and the air was less stuffy.

“I moved here a few months ago,” Patrick said. “Just needed a change of scenery.”

“Bad breakup?” David asked sympathetically.

“Something like that,” Patrick agreed. “I’ve always lived in Toronto. Same neighbourhood, same people, and I just needed something…different.”

“Something different,” David repeated. “And Schitt’s Creek was different.”

“Yep,” Patrick replied. “I just pulled out a map and picked an area without too many people. Schitt’s Creek happened to have a want ad for someone to do business stuff, so here I am.”

David nodded. He tucked a smile into his cheek as he asked, “And how did you end up living with Ray?”

Patrick shot him a look. “I am not living with Ray,” he corrected.

David felt the smile spread in response to Patrick’s mildly indignant tone. He waited until Patrick had definitely seen it before drinking again. The feeling was familiar; the _something_ between them he couldn’t quite put his finger on. It had happened a few times before, but he’d brushed it off. Their gaze meeting, mutual amusement or understanding across a room binding them. This time he was far more aware of what it might mean. He was far more aware of himself. It was weird. But not bad weird, just something he hadn’t experienced before. Ever. Not this slowly, and definitely not without a whirl of pharmaceutical assistance.

Swallowing, David tuned into Patrick. He was looking into his wine glass, frowning as he explained. “Ray was the only real estate agent in the area. When I called him and explained I just wanted to rent a room, he told me there wasn’t really a market for that, but he did have a spare room.” He glanced over at David. “Obviously, I didn’t see the décor until I arrived.”

“Obviously,” David replied. He held in a smile as he asked, “And tell me, did your room come furnished?”

Patrick sighed theatrically. “It did,” he said. “I don’t have the heart to ask if I can paint the walls or something.”

“Are you planning on staying here?” David asked, surprised. “Oh, I mean…” he winced. “That did not sound so judge-y in my head. Sorry.”

That smile, the small one that danced around Patrick’s mouth sometimes when he was looking at David, it was there again. David had learned to associate it with the sneaking suspicion Patrick was finding him amusing. He was never quite sure, because Patrick was never mean, but his eyes softened and it occurred to David he’d never seen that exact smile directed at anyone else.

A whisper of possibility ghosted over David, and he brushed it away, irritated he wasn’t doing a better job not analysing this. The voice in his head sounded exactly like Alexis.

_Just leave it, David._

“It’s okay,” Patrick replied. He drew a sharp breath. “I don’t know…I don’t really have a plan.”

“Patrick Brewer doesn’t have a plan?” David said. “Oh my God what even is the world?” He’d been going for a teasing tone, but it was a more serious question than he’d anticipated.

Patrick didn’t say anything for a few minutes. David regretted turning the conversational tone. They’d been doing fine, their rhythm almost matching the rapport shared while they were working. That was easy. Why was that so easy when this was so difficult? He fiddled with the curve of his wine glass, the edge of his nail sliding along the smooth edge. He slid his finger further until his ring clinked against the hard surface. The silence was stretching out longer now, and as he glanced out over the yard he could see how much darker it had become. He let Patrick decide where the conversation would go.

“I did have a bit of a plan,” Patrick said quietly. “But things changed. There are a few things I’m not sure of so I can’t really plan until I know.”

“Okay,” David said cautiously. He had a budding suspicion about one of those things, but did he really want to go there right now? It might just be that Patrick was settled here. Involved in the business, something he hadn’t anticipated. David swallowed, asking a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. “And did you want to talk about that?”

Patrick didn’t move. David had no idea how long it was, but he was on his fourth carefully controlled inhalation when he finally spoke. “It won’t come as a surprise to hear I’ve always had a plan,” he said. David nodded, not wanting to interrupt. “And I’ve always liked having a plan. It was safe. But when I moved here – which wasn’t part of the bigger plan – the new plan was less…solid.”

“Right,” David said, his heart beating faster than he would have admitted to anyone. “So, you didn’t really have a plan when you came here. Not really.”

“My plan was to start working, doing the small business support thing for a while before starting my own business.”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” David remarked.

“Well, compared to the rest of my life, it was frighteningly unstructured,” Patrick replied. It was much darker now, but David could still see the discomfort in his eyes didn’t match the smile he attempted. The desire to comfort him was strong, but David sipped at his wine instead.

“And I’m guessing this is where I came in,” David said finally, the words falling out before he could really stop them. “You ended up working with me instead of starting your own business.”

“You make it sound like that was a disappointment,” Patrick said.

“Oh no,” David replied. “I mean, I hope it wasn’t, but…” he stopped, wincing. “I’m not fishing or anything. Just forget I said anything.” He took a large mouthful of wine, desperately hoping Patrick would save the conversation.

“It wasn’t a disappointment, David,” Patrick said, in the calm measured way he often spoke. “If you recall I was the one that suggested we work together.”

“Yes, you did,” David murmured. After the revelation from his mother about his previous business venture, he’d been so determined to do this on his own. There was far more to it than he’d ever considered, and David knew he was floundering before Patrick offered to help. He was a Godsend, if David believed in such things. Now that they were almost ready to open, David couldn’t imagine doing this without Patrick. And he was finally starting to realise and admit to himself that it was as much about having Patrick in his life as it was being business partners with Patrick.

_So much for leaving it alone._

“And that’s working out,” Patrick said quietly, “so I’m just…not planning for a while.”

David nodded. “That sounds like a good plan,” he said without thinking. When he realised what he’d said, he closed his eyes, waiting out the awkward moment. Opening them and looking over, Patrick had that smile on his face again. David ventured to meet it with one of his own.

Hmm. Not so awkward after all.


	3. Chapter 3

“You hungry?” Patrick asked. “I was just going to order pizza.”

“Sure,” David said. “Um, which pizza shop do you order from?”

“It used to be Presto Pizza, but they kept messing up my order,” Patrick said. “Now I go to Paccarelli’s. They’re more expensive but I get what I order.”

“The olives?” David said sympathetically. “They put olives on everything. And not even the good ones, those awful little sliced things.” He shuddered at the memory.

“Exactly,” Patrick replied. He pulled out his phone. “So you want your usual?”

David froze. “My usual?” he repeated.

Patrick looked up from finding the number on his phone. He looked confused. “You always order the same thing,” he pointed out. When David didn’t speak, he said tentatively, “Mushrooms, peppers, one and a half times cheese?”

“That’s my order,” David said. He knew he sounded surprised, because he was. How had Patrick memorised his pizza order?

“What?” Patrick said. “Is something wrong?”

“We’ve only ordered pizza like,” David thought rapidly, “three times? Four. Four times?” He couldn’t remember. “How do you know my pizza order?”

“I pay attention,” Patrick replied.

“Oh,” David said.

He could feel his eyebrows sky high, and he turned to look out on the garden as Patrick ordered, not wanting to stare. Why was it so astounding to have someone pay attention to something as unimportant as his pizza order? He knew, of course, but it felt like a much bigger deal than it should be. Just because he couldn’t remember the last time someone remembered his regular order – except Twyla and his coffee, and even that was a work in progress – just because it felt like a kind and considerate and unfamiliar thing, he shouldn’t be so affected by it.

Glancing back, David saw Patrick looking at him, waiting patiently for him to return to their conversation.

“And the first time, you spent twenty minutes explaining why regular cheese was too little and double cheese was too much,” Patrick said, picking up their conversation with a smile. “The evening is somewhat seared into my brain.”

“Oh, right,” David said. He definitely remembered that night. It was the first time they’d both stayed late in the store, moving furniture – well, Patrick moved furniture – and talking about how it was coming together. The first time David could really see how it might look.

“I’m sure you paid equal attention to my order,” Patrick said, eyes sparkling more than his serious tone of voice might suggest.

“Um,” David said, thinking frantically. He cast his eyes around fruitlessly, but it wasn’t until they settled back on Patrick’s he realised it was gentle teasing. “Oh,” he said again, uncertainty colouring his voice.

“I order pepperoni,” Patrick said. “With a regular amount of cheese.”

David felt the knot relax in his stomach. “Well I hope you don’t regret that,” he said with a smile. “Insufficient cheese can be disappointing.”

The response he expected from Patrick – something light and uncomplicated – was not forthcoming. Instead Patrick looked at him for a long time. David felt the familiar something pulling on him, stronger than before, and he wondered if Patrick felt it too. He was waiting, and could almost see the words in Patrick’s mouth before he swallowed them down with the last of his wine.

“So what did you think of the wine?” Patrick asked finally.

“Yeah, it’s good,” David said. He swallowed, almost unable to believe he was going to say it. “I’m not sure I’m going to need more tonight, though.”

“Me either,” Patrick agreed. “So, tell me more about the vintner. Do we stock them exclusively?”

David realised Patrick was changing the subject, but he was grateful. They had been skating perilously close to uncomfortable conversation right now. Moving back to the more secure topic of work was a good idea, at least for a while.

They talked about the wine vendor, which led to other work talk. It was light and largely meaningless, which was perfect. When the pizza arrived David was far more relaxed and they sat together in the living room, their respective pizza boxes butting against each other on the coffee table.

“I am so glad Ray isn’t here,” David said suddenly.

Patrick looked guiltily around. “Me too,” he admitted.

David grinned through a mouthful of actually very good pizza. “He’s that bad of a roommate?” he asked. “I knew it.”

Patrick shot David an admonishing glance. “The rent is cheap,” he said finally when he’d swallowed.

David snorted a laugh which lingered when Patrick laughed too. “’The rent is cheap?’” David parroted. “Please don’t tell me that is the only redeeming feature of living here.”

Patrick grinned. “Well, there’s the décor,” he said, “always a plus.”

“Oh, entirely,” David replied. “What else?” he said, privately happy they’d found this kind of middle ground. Not work, not too personal, and the shared smiles and jokes made him feel good. Maybe this would be their new normal, then. Somewhere in between. Close friends. That was a thing, right?

“Well Ray makes me breakfast a lot,” Patrick said. “Comes in without knocking to tell me when it’s ready. Oh, and he reminds me when it’s time to change my toothbrush, and makes sure I’m organising my closet optimally.”

“Oh my God,” David replied, sitting forward eagerly. “He’s like an overbearing mother.”

“Oh, he’s way worse,” Patrick said with a laugh. “My mother can hover with the best of them, but Ray’s got fewer boundaries than anyone I’ve ever known.”

David nodded. “I don’t think my mother has ever made me breakfast,” he said thoughtfully. “I mean, we had a cook for a long time, and she would tell the cook what to make me when I was little, but I don’t think that’s the same.”

“Not quite,” Patrick agreed without judging. “Anyway, now that I’m tied to the store, I guess I’m here for a while.”

David flinched at the words. “You don’t have to be,” he said defensively. “I mean, you do a lot of the business stuff, and that could be done remotely, if you wanted to move.”

Another smile, another long beat before he spoke. This was the moment he understood Patrick was considering his words. Allowing David space with his freaking out so he was ready to listen when Patrick did respond. “I’ll keep that in mind,” Patrick replied. “If I ever want to move.”

David nodded. “Okay,” he said softly. The tension eased as he ate another piece of pizza, and before he knew Patrick was done eating.

“Should we put on a movie?” Patrick asked. “It’s not that late.” He grinned. “And I’d be happy to watch something without Ray commenting every five seconds.”

“Yeah,” David replied. “What do you have?”

“A wide selection of Netflix and free to air television,” Patrick said. “I’m assuming you have a preference?”

“Oh, I do,” David said, “but why don’t you pick?”

Patrick shot him an amused glance. “Because we both know you’ll be happier if you get to choose?”

David stared for a second before reaching for a napkin with one hand and the remote with the other. “I will, yeah,” he said, bouncing a little as he started to look through the Netflix options. It was a long time since he’d watched anything other than the basic channels the motel offered, and he was startled to see familiar faces as he scrolled Netflix. It was more difficult than he thought it would be, seeing people from Before. None had contacted him, not that he expected they would. Friends for a good time, not a long time, but it still stung.

“David?” Patrick asked from beside him.

David suddenly realised he’d stopped scrolling. “You decide,” he said, dropping the remote on the cushion between them, not wanting to share the silly reaction. “I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” Patrick said with a glance at him.

David concentrated on his next piece of pizza as Patrick scrolled through things, shaken by his reaction. He didn’t look up even when Patrick settled back and murmured, “I hope this is okay.”

David looked up, the familiar beginning of a Sandra Bullock movie accompanied by his suddenly pounding heart.

“ _The Lake House,_ ” he murmured.

“I figured something familiar might be good,” Patrick said.

David nodded, not sure he’d be able to talk without his voice breaking. How had he known? Patrick didn’t seem to need words; he was already watching, his expression neutral. David felt himself more intrigued by whether Patrick was actually interested enough in the movie to be concentrating as hard as he was; his eyes never left the screen, and he didn’t say a word.

Sandra and Keanu had realised the secret of the lake house by the time Patrick glanced at David, his double take almost amusing, it was so perfect.

“What?” he said.

“What?” David replied.

Patrick turned sideways, his attention completely off the television. “David, you’ve spent more time watching me than this movie, and I happen to know you love this movie.”

“Of course I do, Sandra Bullock is amazing,” David said. He frowned. “But how did you know that?”

“I pay attention, remember?” Patrick replied. “You ranked Sandra Bullock’s movies for me one day, and of everything on Netflix, you rated this the highest.”

David swallowed. Patrick remembered that? He didn’t even remember that. Well, not clearly. The embarrassment after, when he realised how long he’d been blathering on, that was clear. But Patrick remembered the ranking of Sandra Bullock movies? Who even was he? Was anyone this good a person to their friends?

“Right, well, I’ve seen it a bunch of times, and I gather you haven’t, so I thought I should check if you need any,” David drew a breath, knowing how lame his excuse was but already halfway through giving it, “clarification regarding plot points.”

Patrick grinned. “Clarification?” he repeated. “About the plot of this movie.” He pointed to the screen. “This blatant Sandra Bullock vehicle might need to be…clarified.”

“Yes,” David said defensively. He twisted his hands together. “Understanding the time thing is not intuitive, Patrick.”

“I think I’m good,” Patrick replied with a smile. He settled back into the cushion, glancing to the TV and back a couple of times. David wasn’t sure he was finished speaking, but eventually his attention returned completely to the screen. It was a good thing he was familiar with the storyline, because although David made sure his eyes were on the screen, his attention was far more on Patrick.

When Sandra and Keanu finally embraced out the front of the lake house, Patrick let out a sigh.

“Regrets?” David asked without thinking.

“What? No,” Patrick replied. “I mean, it’s not the greatest movie ever made, but I managed to follow the plot on my own.”

“Oh, okay,” David said. He wasn’t quite sure how sarcastic Patrick was being there and he was wary of overreacting.

Neither spoke, and David wondered if it was a reasonable hour to suggest bed. This day had been far more taxing than he’d anticipated. The stress of his over analysis followed by the evening itself had taken its toll, and he had a half hour skin routine to complete before he actually turned in.


	4. Chapter 4

“Well, maybe we should get the spare room set up,” Patrick said.

“Yes, good plan,” David said. He groaned, closing his eyes briefly. “I need to stop saying ‘plan’.”

Patrick grinned and picked up the pizza boxes. “Come on,” he said.

They dropped the boxes in the kitchen and David grabbed his bag before following Patrick upstairs. It was strange, knowing they would be sleeping in separate bedrooms but under the same roof.

“Wow, the décor is so…consistent,” David murmured. The upstairs hallway featured the same floral emblems seen through the downstairs. “Ray really has an eye for decorating, doesn’t he?”

“Yep,” Patrick said, opening a door. “This would be my room.”

“Wow,” David said, clocking the wallpaper and lacy curtains. “That’s a little nightmare inducing right there.”

“Fortunately I sleep with my eyes closed,” Patrick said with a grin. “And this would be the spare room.”

David nodded, the grin still on his face as he tried to peer into the room across the hall.

“Holy…” he breathed, his bag falling from his hand with a thump.

“What the…” Patrick said.

David could see nothing of the spare room. It was filled with boxes, and when he stood on his toes to see further back, it appeared they filled every spare inch of the room.

“What the hell?” David asked, bewildered. “Didn’t Ray mention this?”

“No,” Patrick said.

“What, you asked him if I could sleep here and he didn’t mention that the room is literally filled with boxes of…what is this? ‘Racks by Ray’?”

“I think it’s for his new business,” Patrick said, his voice weak. “Closet organisation.”

“Closet organisation…” David repeated. “Wait, but he knew I was planning to stay here tonight.”

Patrick nodded, hands on hips, staring at the floor. “Yep.”

“So what did you say to him?” David asked.

Patrick sighed, a flush working up his neck. “I asked if he would mind if you stayed here tonight. He said fine.”

“You said, ‘Can David stay here?’” David asked. Patrick didn’t reply. “Do you know what that sounds like?”

“It sounds like I was asking if he minded if you stayed here,” Patrick said.

“No,” David said. “No, Patrick. It sounds like you were asking if I could stay there,” he pointed to Patrick’s room. “It sounded like I was your…” he trailed off, horrified at the matching flush he could feel rushing up his neck.

“Yep,” Patrick said, voice resigned. They dwelled on their mutual mortification for a second before Patrick said, “Well, I guess you have three choices.”

“Three?” David repeated. His head was still whirling.

“You could move these boxes, set up the fold out bed, and sleep in there.” David made a faint noise of disgust at the idea. “You could go back to the motel and take your chances with the lice.” Another noise, and he could feel his nose turn up at that option. “Or you could sleep in my bed.”

David’s mouth dropped open at the last suggestion. “I beg your pardon?” he whispered.

“There isn’t another spare bed,” Patrick said, “and the sofa isn’t long enough for you.”

“You’d be sleeping on the sofa?” David said. Keeping up with this conversation was harder than keeping up with the Kardashians.

“Yes,” Patrick replied. “I can’t leave you to sleep there, it’s far too short.”

“Ah, it’s far too short for either of us,” David said. He could see from Patrick’s expression he knew it was true. David stared at him, then came to a snap decision. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said briskly. “It’s a big bed, and we’re grown men. We can share a bed for one night.”

“You sure?” Patrick asked.

“Yes,” David replied, feigning a nonchalance he didn’t feel. He picked up his bag and turned to Patrick. “I mean, if you want me to go back to the motel, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh, it’s fine with me,” Patrick said. “I don’t want to make _you_ uncomfortable.”

They looked at each other for a second before David nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

He followed Patrick into his bedroom. It was obvious from the bedside tables which Patrick used, so David dropped his bag on the other side of the bed.

“Do you want to use the bathroom first?” Patrick asked.

“You go first,” David said. “My skin routine takes a minute.”

Patrick looked at him uncertainly before collecting pyjamas from under his pillow and heading out the door.

David took the chance to exhale. It was hardly ideal, sleeping in the same bed as Patrick, but he couldn’t deny the swoop of his stomach at the idea, either. He firmly shut down the rom-com loving part of his brain that insisted on reminding him how much he would have been rooting for this pair to finally get together after being forced to share a bed…

_No._

“All yours,” Patrick said, and David jumped up off the bed, startled at his swift return.

“Thanks,” David said, snatching his bag and slipping past Patrick so fast he barely registered the soft white t-shirt and blue pyjama pants he was wearing.

David’s hands were shaking too much to apply his under eye serum properly, so he finished a truncated version of his usual routine, apologising to the delicate skin around his eyes and promising to do a full deep cleanse tomorrow night to make up for it. He was glad he’d taken the time to pack properly. Stupid though it felt to think Patrick might judge his nightwear, David was relieved his sleeping shirt and pants made a casual yet stylish outfit.

When he knocked carefully on the door before popping it ajar, Patrick’s voice was amused.

“What?” David said, setting his bag at the end of the bed. Seeing Patrick sitting up in bed, waiting for him was more than he was really ready to process right now. He concentrated on folding his clothes carefully and placing the pile on the dresser, glancing back as Patrick spoke.

“Even if you weren’t the only other person here I would have known it was you,” Patrick said, folding his hands on top of the blanket.

“Ah,” David remembered. “Ray doesn’t knock.”

“Ray says, ‘knock, knock,’ as he opens the door,” Patrick clarified. “Unfortunately that’s actually the improved version.”

David winced. He was still standing by the foot of the bed, berating himself for the nerves stopping him just getting in. He refused to meet Patrick’s eyes, but the extended silence made it more and more obvious Patrick knew what was going on.

“Hit the light before you get in, will you David?” Patrick asked eventually.

David turned automatically, flicking the switch. Patrick’s bedside lamp was still on, and the dim light was just right to find his way back to the bed. He settled on his side of the mattress, flat on his back and agonisingly aware of Patrick on the other side. David was staring at the ceiling when the light turned off, and he blinked, trying to acclimatise himself. Pillow softer than at the motel, less light from behind the curtain, second body in the room far closer but still a secret comfort.

“You know I still haven’t actually met your parents properly,” Patrick said, his voice loud in the darkness.

“What?” David said.

“Sorry,” Patrick muttered. “Weird thing to say…sorry.”

“It’s fine,” David said, less upset than he maybe should be. “I don’t even know if they’ll come to the opening.”

“Really?” Patrick replied. “I thought they supported this idea?”

David shrugged. How were they having this conversation all of a sudden? “I don’t know,” he said, but the urge to explain more was strong. “I mean, I thought they supported my last business too, but turns out,” he sighed, “not so much.”

“How do you mean?” Patrick asked. “If you want to explain. You don’t have to.”

David twisted his hands together over the duvet, wondering where to start. “I used to manage a gallery in New York,” he said. “I convinced artists to hold shows with us, and people would buy the art.” It sounded so simple when he explained it like that. Why had it felt so much more complicated when he was doing it?

“That sounds great,” Patrick replied. “And your parents weren’t involved?”

“Oh, they were involved,” David said, hating the sarcasm and bitterness that escaped with his words. “Dad set it up, and my mother,” he paused, surprised it still hurt this much when he’d stopped talking or thinking about it, “turns out she was the one buying the art.”

“All of it?” Patrick asked.

“Pretty much,” David replied. “Enough that we would have gone under without it.”

“And when did you find out about this?” Patrick asked.

“When I told her I wanted to lease the general store,” David said. “And she told me she didn’t think I could do it on my own.”

Patrick shifted, but didn’t speak. David was mortified to feel a tear pool at the corner of his eye before slipping down his face. He caught it before it landed in his ear, hoping Patrick wouldn’t recognise the action for what it was.

“But you did,” Patrick said quietly. “You did it on your own, David.”

“Not really,” David began.

“David,” Patrick said, turning on his side. “You came to me, remember? To fill in the forms to start your business?”

“Vividly,” David murmured.

“And even though you weren’t entirely set on some of the details,” Patrick said, kindly smoothing over David’s lack of focus at the time, “you knew exactly what you wanted to do with this business.”

“It wouldn’t have gotten this far if you hadn’t helped,” David protested. Patrick’s earnest words were nice, though, and he hoped they continued.

“I wouldn’t have helped if you didn’t have such a good business plan,” Patrick said. “But anyone can write a good business plan. Not everyone can have such a clear vision of what they want to achieve.”

David swallowed. He nodded, a tiny scrap of a thing, but all he could muster. Patrick was so _kind_ , saying these quiet words in the dark. Helping more than he knew, really. More than David expected him to help with a wound he’d never really allowed to hurt for long.

“If I remember rightly, you wanted to curate a selection of products from local vendors and sell them on consignment in a one-stop-shop retail environment that benefits both the vendor and the customer,” Patrick said. “And I’m no expert but it looks like that’s what you’re doing.”

“We,” David whispered. _How did he remember all that?_

“What?” Patrick asked.

“We,” David repeated. “That’s what _we_ are doing.”

“Right,” Patrick murmured.

There was silence for a long while before he said carefully, “I still think of it as your store, David. The idea is yours. I’m just the numbers guy.”

David blinked in the darkness. That was unexpected. He wanted to give a proper answer but this conversation was getting a lot heavier than he was prepared to deal with now, lying in bed with Patrick watching him.

“Well,” David said, fighting to find a balance between flippancy and seriousness, “I am in charge of creative decisions.”

“Yes you are,” Patrick said, his voice warm. “You could replace the numbers guy, but if the creative director goes it wouldn’t be the same.”

“It wouldn’t be the same without you,” David whispered, the words drawn out of him by the darkness. He held his breath, not entirely sure if Patrick had even heard him. There was plausible deniability, should it come to that, and David wasn’t certain if he did want Patrick to acknowledge his words or not.

“Thank you, David,” Patrick murmured, and the mattress dipped as he shifted, rolling onto his back. He didn’t expand on what David said, but the space between them felt less strained. Finally, David felt Patrick shift again. “Good night, David,” he said.

“Good night,” David replied automatically. Surprisingly, he fell asleep more quickly than he had in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

David Rose was not a morning person. He did not wake with the sun, ready for the day. More often, he reluctantly dragged himself out of bed at an hour the rest of the world considered late.

Today, although his bladder woke him as the sun was still easing into the sky, it was not that which kept him awake.

Patrick was still on his side of the bed, and David on his.

Technically.

But they had both turned towards the middle in the night, and their hands lay between them. David stared, not daring to move. If he extended his little finger he could wind it around Patrick’s without a stretch. The space was hardly a breath wide, and David’s skin was tingling with the warmth and the proximity and the astounding comfort of having Patrick so very close.

Unfortunately, his reason for waking was still a real and pressing issue. Carefully, David slid backwards, wincing as the cool air hit the skin at the small of his back. His eyes stayed on Patrick, hoping he wouldn’t wake; it would be awkward whenever it happened so best to put it as far in the future as possible. Patrick still hadn’t moved by the time David was standing, the last of his weight easing off the mattress. He breathed out in relief, but it was premature.

“David,” Patrick murmured, his hand sliding across the gentle divot David’s absence had left in the bed.

David froze. Was Patrick awake? Or worse, was he asleep?

Either way, David needed to not be here right now.

Carefully, he padded across the floor, scooping one arm under his clothes and collecting his bag. He held his breath until he was out the door, closing it behind him with a sigh. Once he’d relieved himself, David started unpacking his toiletries. As Patrick wasn’t up and David’s brain was certainly not able to return to sleep, he took his time with his skin routine, hopefully making up for last night’s deficit. In the terrible fluorescent light of Patrick’s bathroom David couldn’t see any negative impact, but it was hardly the best lighting to notice anything significant.

When he had run out of ways to pamper his skin, David packed his things away. Getting dressed and fixing his hair took up another twenty minutes, though his hair refused to sit the way he liked. He looked at himself in the mirror, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, the mint of his toothpaste sharp in his nose. He was fine. It was fine. Just because he and Patrick had shared a bed, and talked about some things he hadn’t shared with anyone but Stevie, and he’d barely had steady enough fingers to get his hair looking right, there was nothing to worry about.

Opening the bathroom door, David hesitated in front of Patrick’s room. He would never have closed the door behind him had he considered that he would now have to knock. Patrick knew David was the only person here, yet he was still hesitant to enter. It felt far more intimate, knowing Patrick was asleep in there.

David was still vacillating about whether he should open the door or just wait for Patrick downstairs when it opened of its own accord. Before David could react Patrick stepped right up to the threshold, not realising David was there until they were standing toe-to-toe.

“Oh,” David breathed. The sleepy warmth of the man in front of him made his hands curl into fists. His face was open and soft, his pleasure at seeing David radiating from his smile. David wanted to bury his face in that soft white skin, to breathe in the essence of Patrick that surely resided right there, where his neck curved into shoulder.

_Oh._

There it was. The flare of desire he hadn’t recognised until now. That was something he knew about, but never this late, never after having his interest sparked by someone’s character. It was always physical first…until now.

“David,” Patrick murmured, and it was so close to the way he’d said it earlier David’s throat went dry.

“Hi,” he managed.

“Good morning,” Patrick said quietly.

They were still standing very close, David realised; he could see the creases on Patrick’s face where he’d been lying on his pillow moments earlier. His eyes traced their pattern, fascinated by the detail before he realised he shouldn’t be staring. When he tried to meet Patrick’s eyes again, David was astonished to realise his attention had also wandered. To David’s mouth, his own lips parted. The noise of surprise David made must have startled Patrick, because he jumped, unable to hide the desire in his eyes before they met David’s again.

_Good God._

Time stretched out like warm taffy until…

“So, breakfast?” David said brightly, stepping back.

“Sure,” Patrick replied. He cleared his throat before stepping around David and into the bathroom.

David allowed himself a second of eyes-closed mortification at how awkwardly he’d escaped that situation. There was no mistaking the look in Patrick’s eyes, but instead of taking the opportunity, hopefully Patrick would have coffee somewhere downstairs and they could pretend none of this ever happened. David headed into the kitchen, leaving his bag by the backdoor before looking at the cabinets to try and work out where one might keep the coffee in such a kitchen. He tried one cabinet after another, finding a bewildering array of organisational tools but very little in the way of actual beverages or crockery.

“Top left.”

Patrick’s voice came from behind David. It was such a shock he jumped, slamming the open door and turning around. Patrick was standing close, his hands already raised in placation before David was properly facing him.

“Patrick,” David breathed. Even as his mind raced he clocked the sleeping t-shirt, now paired with jeans. Proper pants, thank God, though the sleeping t-shirt still exposed far more of his collarbones than any reasonable person could be expected to ignore. David swallowed, pressing the heels of his hands into the counter behind him.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” Patrick said, shoving his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I assume you were looking for the coffee.”

“I was,” David replied.

Patrick was still very close, though he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss. He didn’t move and David studied his face, deliberately skating over the rapidly fading creases. His eyes really were an unusual shade of caramel, David realised, though he couldn’t remember seeing such anxiety in them before. Was he worried about something? A rush of something soft rolled through David, weakening his arms.

“Regrets?” he asked weakly.

“Regrets?” Patrick repeated, blinking. “No? Why would I…what would I be regretting?”

“Sorry,” David whispered, feeling heat infuse his cheeks. “Force of habit.”

Patrick blinked, watching David’s face. “You think I’d be regretting something that happened?”

“Maybe?” David tried. He could see Patrick considering something. “It’s just, like, a habit to ask.”

Patrick nodded, though his eyes were thoughtful. “If I’m going to be honest,” he said, and the honesty might have been tethered to the fear in his eyes as he continued, “I would say I’m more likely to regret something that…didn’t happen.”

“Something that didn’t happen?” David repeated.

Patrick nodded, his lips pressed tightly together. David had the distinct impression it would be up to him to push this conversation if it was to progress. He thought about Patrick’s expression in the door of his bedroom this morning. When he didn’t realise David was looking his face was open, eyes longing…but it was packed away as soon as he knew David had seen. And now, he looked determined but apprehensive, as though simply standing here was taking all his strength. David knew Patrick needed him to say something. If Patrick didn’t look so Goddamn scared, David didn’t think he would have had the courage.

_It must be important if he’s this worried._

“Are you…are you regretting us not…that we didn’t kiss?” David asked, trying hard to find neutral language in case he was incredibly and embarrassingly wrong about whatever was between them.

“Maybe,” Patrick said, his tone quite unconvincing.

“Really,” David said.

“Mmm-hmm,” Patrick replied.

“Well if that’s the case,” David said, pushing himself to stand more upright, the counter still pressing into his back, “I would have to say I might regret not knowing that you might have wanted that.” He cleared his throat. “Definitively, I mean.”

Patrick blinked. “You…what?” he said.

“If I had known you wanted…that,” David said, watching Patrick closely to see if he understood, “If I had known you wanted that to happen…” he trailed off as Patrick’s brow cleared and his mouth dropped open.

“You wanted to kiss me?” Patrick whispered.

“I did,” David replied, a thrill running down his fingers at the flash of desire darkening Patrick’s eyes. “I do.”

Patrick swallowed, his eyes dropping down to hover around David’s mouth. It shouldn’t have been so arousing, standing two paces from someone he’d never so much as hugged properly while he stared at David’s mouth. Yet David’s blood was heating, his heart was pounding harder, and when Patrick took a step forward, pride and admiration for his courage roared into David’s head.

“David,” Patrick whispered, swaying closer.

This time David allowed himself to lean forward, closing the distance until his mouth pressed against Patrick’s.

Everything happened at once. Even as the world shuddered to a halt, a cavalcade of new knowledge burst through David’s brain.

Patrick’s mouth was soft. He’d brushed his teeth, but he hadn’t shaved.

David heard him inhale, sharp and irregular.

The sound sent shards of light through David, fingers tightening against the counter to ground himself. His reaction shocked him, even after the preceding minutes. He’d kissed hundreds of people, maybe even a thousand, and he couldn’t remember the last time a first kiss had actually stopped him breathing like this. It should have been frightening, how deeply right this felt, yet David couldn’t allow such negativity to taint this moment.

So he didn’t. He enjoyed the press of Patrick’s lips on his. The swirl of reaction as he moved his lips in a tentative slide against Patrick’s mouth. The resulting gasp might have come from either of them; at this point David wasn’t quite sure what was going on beyond wanting to continue kissing Patrick. It was heady, not only his own desire but Patrick’s evident in every twitch of muscle. David had only a single thought.

_More._

It must have been mutual because Patrick leaned into it, gradual pressure easing David back. His weight rested more heavily on his hands until he couldn’t help but reach forward, arms coming around Patrick’s shoulders. This groan definitely came from Patrick as his hands slid onto David’s hips, pressing him against the cabinet. Everything melded together at that point, a world of gentle sounds and deep kisses, of David and Patrick and nothing standing between them.

Later, though David couldn’t guess at how much later, Patrick shifted just enough to break their kiss. He was still intimately close; David could feel him breathing. Dealing with the emotions already present was enough so David didn’t open his eyes quite yet. As he battled the mess in his head, Patrick eased back until David couldn’t tell for sure how far away he was. He wanted to keep his hands on Patrick, but neediness was hardly an attractive trait, so he dropped them. The lack of connection was disconcerting, and a curl of doubt, dark and insidious, pressed into his happiness and demanded attention. What if he opened his eyes and Patrick was disappointed? Or experimenting? Keeping his eyes closed for an extra second allowed him to hold onto this feeling before the awkwardness settled over them.

“David?”

He swallowed, bracing himself before opening his eyes. Patrick was closer than he’d expected and his gaze was tentative as he studied David.

“Is this where you’d expect talk of regrets?” Patrick asked with remarkable insight.

“Yeah,” David whispered. He felt vulnerable; not only was Patrick now very aware of David’s desire for him, he was disconcertingly good at reading David and for someone so used to pushing people away with clever words and dismissals, it was confronting.

“Not today,” Patrick said. He swallowed, reaching out and taking one of David’s hands in his. “I should thank you.”

“For what?”

“For having the courage to make that happen for us.”

“Oh,” David said. “I didn’t realise…I wasn’t sure if you…if you wanted it or not.”

“Even after I said I did?” Patrick said with a half-smile.

“Even then,” David admitted.

“You should know that I’ve never…this is not something I’ve done with another guy before.” Patrick’s eyes were determined, fragility barely disguised behind the determination. “I was scared you’d go this morning without that happening for us.”

David nodded, his head reeling. When Patrick didn’t speak again, he cleared his throat. “So I might go. Give you some space?” he said, internally wincing at how uncertain he sounded. “Just to…I’m guessing you want some time to think. Or something.”

Patrick nodded, eyes still tracking David. “I want you to know, whatever happens, this is not regret.”

David swallowed. “Okay, well that’s new,” he said, aiming for something amusing but knowing it sounded more vulnerable than he’d planned. “It’s new,” he repeated, allowing the gravity of the words to stand. Another new thing; saying what he meant without a varnish of sarcasm or clever words to mask them. From what he could read in Patrick’s eyes, he understood the change. His fingers tightened around David’s, and the smile he offered was supportive.

“Okay,” Patrick said. “Can we talk later?”

“We can talk whenever you want,” David replied. Some time to think would be good for him, too. This was new for Patrick, but in a lot of ways it was something new for him, too. Something he was apprehensive about but with Patrick, the edge of fear and panic he was used to feeling was absent.

“And by whenever you mean, ‘not so early in the morning’,” Patrick said.

“Yes I do,” David replied. He took a moment to meet Patrick’s eyes, giving himself a deep, grounding breath. “I’ll see you at the store?”

“Sure,” Patrick replied. “We could start talking about when you want to open, actually.”

“Okay,” David said. He stood awkwardly for a second before picking up his bag. “Bye.”

“G’bye, David.” Patrick crossed his arms, leaning on the doorframe. He was watching as David walked through the living room and out the front door.

Never had he been so happy not to encounter a single person as he started walking back towards the motel. David wasn’t used to being awake so early, and the walk home felt like more than the beginning of a new day.

“Not regret,” David murmured to himself. He felt his mouth turn up and instead of suppressing it, as he so often did, he allowed it to spread across his face. Maybe this proper smile was part of this new thing with Patrick. Tentative though he generally was about looking to the future, David Rose found himself feeling...optimistic.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/OneBlueUmbrella) or [Tumblr](https://oneblueumbrella.tumblr.com/).


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